Gift of the Nightingale
by Darkflames and fire
Summary: Sequel to "Birth of the Nightingale". Nightingale has now arrived in Azerath and is hurrying to look for his sister. It may have been forbidden due to risks with the two beings coming coming together and their magic reacting, but the meeting may just bring a gift that will put the fate of many worlds into the hands of one boy. The son of Trigon. OC-centric storyline


Darkflame: Not even going to bother with intoductions today, but we don't own it. If you are reading this, we are going to assume you have read the first story, "Birth of the Nightingale." If that is not the case, go to our profile and check it out.

* * *

Nightingale's eyes opened to be greeted by the harshly bright sun of mid-day. He groaned and rolled over, attempting to bury his face into the soft grass and block out the light so he could alleviate the headache that was currently destroying all coherent thought. A few minutes passed while the black world of his vision was occupied with sounds of the world around him, dulled by the killer migraine. Once the worst of it had past, purple eyes, shining brightly in the sun, opened to see a great wonder.

The dimension of Azerath stretched out before him in a beautiful collection of floating Islands, each with their own house or village depending on their size. In the center of all of it, was the city of Azerath. A large, floating utopia with walls of smooth sandstone that glittered under the light of the sun.

The island that the portal had deposited him on seemed to be one of the smallest, holding a single cherry blossom tree and a few black roses growing here and there. He moved to inspect the plants, wondering at life he had not seen at his home in his father's realm. Deciding that he might as well bring something if he was going to see his sister, he picked some of the roses, leaving the thorns on as he thought they looked just a bit more beautiful with them.

"Like a double-edged sword." he muttered to himself, finishing the rest in his head. 'Two sides. Beatiful and yet dangerous at the same time.'

The young child set about looking for a way off the island, only to discover himself floating in random space. He'd assume that she would be somewhere in the main city of Azerath, being a child of Trigon, but he was troubled on how exactly to get there. Purple eyes scanned the area thoroughly, finding another island that seemed to be quite close to the one their owner was on.

Nightingale approached the edge, looking across the gap. The two islands floated at about an even height, and only seemed about five feet apart. An easy jump if he timed it right. He set about traversing the islands, finding that there was always one within eight feet of another. After much tough work, he finally made it to one of the islands with a hut.

A kind-looking old woman appeared after he knocked on the door. She smiled down warily at the ten year old child standing in her doorway, who no-doubt looked like some street beggar by this point.

"What can I do for you, deary?" she asked, her voice surprisingly sweet and smooth. Nightingale sighed lightly and motioned to the area behind him.

"Is there an easier way to get to Azerath without jumping across all of these islands?" he asked politely as he could while breathing heavily. "I've never been here before but I have family there I need to get to."

"Hmm, an outsider then? Well no wonder you can't cross, son. You need magic to make a path. I'll make one for you." the old woman said kindly, moved by his words of family. The two exited the small home and stood at the edge of the island. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was drenched in beautiful shades of pink, orange, and purple. As the old woman chanted something under her breath, a black path materialized, connecting to a bridge that hung off the side of the city. Nightingale turned to the woman, who didn't look drained at all by the amazing feat of magic.

"Thank you, ma'am." he said, giving her a bow. She nodded without in recognition before motioning to the path with her wrinkled hands.

"Hurry up, child. The path will only last for so long." she told him. Nightingale nodded and ran off, shouting another "Thank you!" as he left.

* * *

"Whoa." Nightingale said as he looked up at the tall skyscrapers around him. He had never seen such amazing architecture in his life. The sandstone was smooth as marble, and shined and sparkled in the sun in a rainbow of colors. The arches and doorways had intricately detailed carvings of subjects ranging from the Greek gods to depictions of the dimension's leader, Azar.

He gave a grunt as he was suddenly barreled over by a huge weight and carried into an alley. When he opened his eyes, he saw a rugged-looking man with jet-black hair and a fair tan. His clothes were rugged and torn. He was obviously bad news.

"Gimme' everything ya' got." he demanded, holding out a grubby hand whilst the other pulled out a dagger concealed under his shirt. Nightingale frowned, and gave the man a pitiful look.

"I'll give you five seconds before you see why this was a bad idea. Feel free to run." he said in the most bored tone he could muster. The mugger seemed momentarily confused and his evil smirk faltered for a second before he held the knife back up with renewed vigor. Nightingale sighed again, before wiping his face of emotion.

After a few seconds of staring with his blank face, Nightingale's lips curled up into a sadistic smile. The young boy's fangs showed sickeningly bright in the meager light of the alley, and his eyes grew a new glow to themselves. His fingers moved like a cowboy's does while waiting for high noon. Then the mugger moved, and Nightingale struck.

A few simple steps took him under the range of the knife's attack, and his open palm went straight up into the jaw of the mugger. He heard the sickening crack of teeth breaking under the force of collision, and laughed heartily. Another quick movement had his elbow striking firmly at his attacker's ribs, crushing at least four and making the poor man collapse. Nightingale quickly left the alley while the mugger struggled for breath.

* * *

"Hello, sir. How may I help you?" the woman at the front desk of Azerath's town hall asked politely. Nightingale smiled weakly, hoping to play up to her 'girly' side.

"I'm just looking for my mother, ma'am. My father sent me here, but I don't know where she lives." he told the young woman, who smiled down at him sweetly, like most women did to small kids like him. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was only ten.

"Oh, sure thing darling." she said sweetly, and Nightingale could practically see the hearts in her eyes at the weak child act. "Would you happen to know a name sweetie?" The young woman came out from the back of the desk and leaned down to his height, looking him in the eyes. Nightingale shook his head worriedly.

"No ma'am. My dad just told me she was here. Is there any other way I could find her?" She thought for a moment, smiling and snapping her fingers when she realized what to do.

"Yes there is." she told him reassuringly. "I can use my magic to search for your blood-relatives here." Nightingale smiled brightly, trying to hide his fangs as he did so. There was no use scaring the nice lady.

"Thank you." he said gratefully, still using his 'child' voice. The woman just nodded and began speaking an enchantment under her breath, though it sounded different than the one of the old woman. After a few seconds of chanting, a black glow burst from Nightingale's chest, zigzagging around corners and phasing through the door of the building they were in.

"Just follow the beam, you'll find your family." the young sorceress told him, like the old woman, sounding not the least bit drained by the magic. Nightingale gave her a grateful hug before chasing after the ball of magic that was leading him to his family.

* * *

Blitz: We're gonna finish it there because we have to go somewhere, but never fear, we'll have a new chapter out soon.


End file.
